


It's the sinking feeling of being alone

by WriterRose



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: (stuff you'd hear in the show), Absent Parents, Babysitter Steve Harrington, Brotherly Bonding, Gen, Mild Language, Missing Scene, Post-Season/Series 02, Season/Series 02 Spoilers, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, dustin's worried, he's very lonely but don't tell anybody, hints at steve having some very mild ptsd, mentioned possible abuse, mentioned possible self-harm, missing scenes are how the kids got steve in the car and how he ended up driving dustin to the dance, possible triggers, steve's a klutz, tws for injuries caused by heat and knives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 09:36:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16323749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriterRose/pseuds/WriterRose
Summary: As he wheedles himself into Steve Harrington’s life, Dustin notices that the older teen has some strange scarring on his hands. Needless to say, he obsesses over what they could be from.(Title from the song “Squealing Pigs” by Admiral Fallow.)





	It's the sinking feeling of being alone

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: This story mentions possible child abuse and possible self-inflicted harm. If you are sensitive to these subjects or struggling, this fic may not be right for you. SPOILER FOR THIS FIC, none of these will actually occur, but they’re explicitly implied to be the cause of Steve’s scars.
> 
> Non-beta'd. All mistakes are my own.

The first time he sees them, he doesn’t really have time to give them much thought. When an army of demadogs are running rampant and the remaining members of your party decide to go and blow up their base, there’s not much time for cohesive thoughts besides ‘ _make a plan_ ’ and ‘ _don’t die_ ’. Not to mention you have to lug an unconscious, much-bigger-than-you teenager into a car about to be driven by a girl your age. 

Also, it was dark as hell so he couldn’t really tell what they were or if they were even there in the first place.

After Steve’s beat down courtesy of Billy Hargrove, the remaining members of the Party (plus one), had to take the time to gather the needed supplies for said burning of demadog base. Mike went in search of swim goggles, matches, gasoline, and any type of fabric that could cover their mouths and extremities from the spores the tunnels were undoubtedly drowning in and Max and Lucas were busy dragging her drugged-out step-brother to the porch, so that left the task of watching over the remaining - extremely injured - teen to Dustin.

He didn’t really know where to start. Well, the face area seemed like it took the most damage, so he spent most of his time freaking out over that part. He tried rousing him, but the only responses Dustin got from Steve were mumbles and grunts. His eyes weren’t opening all the way, but Dustin wondered if that was because they were starting to swell? Shit.

By the time the others returned, Dustin hadn’t really made much progress. An insistent Mike declared that they didn’t have time to wait for Steve to wake up, they had to get moving now, El didn’t have much time.

That left Dustin with no other choice. If Steve couldn’t drive them, they’d have to bring him.

“No way.” Mike firmly stated. “No way. He’ll freak out and try to stop us.” The hell he was going to let his sister’s… _whatever_ he was now, try to stop them. He didn’t like the plan when Steve was the one driving, let alone Max, who’d only ever driven in a parking lot before, for Christ’s sake, and man did Mike hate all his options. Namely how little he had...

“No, he won’t!” Dustin quickly defended. “He’ll be cool, I promise! He came and helped me when no one else did, no questions asked!” 

A little dirty of him, playing the guilt-card. Also a bit of a grey lie. There were plenty of questions asked. Well, mostly just one. Repeatedly. Like _‘How big?’_ , but Dustin still honestly doesn’t know why the size _mattered_....

He also argued that they couldn’t just leave Steve here, bleeding on Mrs. Byers’ floor. Especially not with Billy just lying a few feet away outside. Lucas agreed probably feeling a little guilty since he was the one who Steve saved from a beating and Max didn’t need that much convincing in the first place after viewing said beating her step-brother just gave the other teen. She wasn’t willing to risk it. Mike was outvoted. 

They were finally able to rouse Steve enough to get him clumsily on his feet and only because there was four of them, they were able to drag him into the back seat of the Camaro. As soon as he hit the leather, he was out again. But to be fair, Dustin thought, he never really was _in_ in the first place.

Max sat in the front but quickly got up again after a moment, disappearing to the side of the porch, hastily returning with a small cardboard box, supported by duck-tape, and from the sound of it had something solid inside. She couldn’t reach the pedals and it was apparently good enough for a makeshift stilt. While Max was gone, Lucas sat shotgun and pulled out the map, ready to feed directions. Dustin didn’t even debate taking shotgun, too worried about his new friend. Surprisingly, Mike sat in the back seat with him. Lucas was better at reading maps, anyway. But more surprisingly, Mike pulled out some band-aids, hand-towels, and an ice pack from his backpack, the best medical supplies he could find while searching the Byers home for other monster-hunting tools. He and Mike did a crude job of patching Steve up with their tiny band-aids and Mike refused to hold the ice pack, but Dustin was happy to do it and the other kid already had the can of gas on his lap anyway.

In the dim lighting, Dustin tried getting a good look at the teenager’s injuries. Split lip, black eyes, broken nose, gash along his head, large bump in the middle of his forehead from the head-butt....Dustin patched all those up as best he could. Except the broken nose, Mike warned him that prodding at it would only wake him up and there’s nothing they could do right now unless Dustin wanted to try setting it. His stomach did an uncomfortable turn at that thought and he agreed it was best to just leave it be.

After assessing the damages to the teen’s head and face, he looked down. From his ridden up shirt, Dustin could just see the formation of bruises on Steve’s torso. He winced in sympathy, wondering when he was dealt those. He then looked at Steve’s hands. The knuckles looked to be bruising, but luckily weren’t split open. Afterall, Steve only got a few good punches in before Billy smashed that plate over his head.

It was while Dustin was checking over the teen’s hands when he saw them. There were tiny, raised gashes littering different spots on Steve’s hands. Well, they weren’t really gashes. They were sealed and discolored and odd shapes but he didn’t have much more time to contemplate them because Steve woke up and things got chaotic.

He meant to ask about them, really he did, but the right timing never seemed to ever come up. When the fiasco in the tunnels was all over and Steve hoisted him up out of the hole and struggled to lift himself out and all but collapsed again - it was at this point that the kids remembered that he was almost _beaten to death_ \- and Dustin pretty much forgot about the tiny marks all together as they tried to figured out how to get home.

* * *

It was about a week or two later. Dustin still wasn’t sure how it happened. How he managed to continue to weasel his way into Steve Harrington’s life, he didn’t know. But it happened anyway. 

He expected for Steve to just move on and they’d all live their separate lives, like last year when all the teams - adults, teens, and kids - met up in their separate efforts to find Will and take down the Demogorgon.

Dustin ran into Steve again on accident. 

He and his mom were at the supermarket. She was preparing to leave town for the weekend to visit a sick great aunt of Dustin’s and though he’d love to miss school, he really didn’t want to separate from all his friends, especially not after what they’d just gone through. Of course he couldn’t tell his mom the real reason he wanted to stay home so he lied and said there was an important science project coming up that he absolutely couldn’t miss. In the end, she agreed to let him stay home when he argued Mews II would be happier staying home, after all she was just a kitten and long road trips probably weren’t good for her. His mom wasn’t happy about it, not one bit, but she’d rather not risk bringing the small animal on the road and knew how important science was to Dustin (which made him feel kind of bad, lying to her like that). Dustin had to call every hour when he wasn’t in school or call ahead to inform her when he’d be away from home or a phone for a prolonged amount of time and have to promise to call as soon as he was safe and home. She never admitted it, but Dustin thinks that what happened to Will last year - or rather, what she _thinks_ happened to Will last year - rattled her quite a bit. 

Dustin didn’t deny that he kind of enjoyed the over-affection. He pretended not to, most of the time, but really it was great knowing she cared so much and goddammit he deserved some coddling after the shit he’d been through. So he agreed to accompany his mother to the store to stock up on the food he’d be needing to live off of for the few days she’d be gone. It was at the supermarket that he ran into Steve Harrington again.

Dustin, of course, gave a loud greeting which made the older boy all but launch the box of pasta he was holding into the air like a bottlerocket. The teen turned to him, his basket filled with various food items, expression slightly startled and handsome face a myriad of healing colors. The teen greeted him a bit awkwardly, but not unkindly. 

His mom eventually rolled up with her cart, expression slightly startled as she saw her one and only sweet son conversing with a battered teen.

After some hasty introductions, a white lie, and a few charming (and dare he say sheepish) smiles from Steve and his mom was all but enchanted.

As far as his mom knew, Steve was Nancy’s ex-boyfriend who was babysitting the Party when a teenage bully came and was about to beat up Lucas before a heroic Steve came and saved the day, but not without getting some serious injuries in the process. She was familiar with the Harringtons, it seemed this whole damn town was, and was nothing but doting to the teen after she heard the story of his gruesome encounter. 

After hearing the story and 30 minutes spent being on the receiving end of the trademark Harrington Charm, his mom asked if he’d be willing to watch ‘Dusty’ for the weekend (Dustin tried to ignore the barely contained snort the teen gave at the mention of the nickname). She’d give him pay of course and he could take the spare room or even just check in on her son from time to time to make sure he was doing alright (though she heavily implied she would prefer the former).

For some reason, Steve agreed. And - Dustin later found out - didn’t accept the money.

* * *

After Steve took the babysitting gig and his mom returned to a house and son well intact, she made a habit of calling on Steve for child-watching duties. Whether it be dropping him off at school on days she was too busy to do it herself or too cold or rainy for Dustin to bike or watching him some nights when her shifts ended up going later than usual. Dustin and Steve ended up spending more time together than either had originally planned (after all, their alliance was first formed out of desperation).

Dustin wasn’t sure why Steve kept doing it or why their relationship seemed to keep improving or why he sometimes looked at Steve and felt like the question he had regarding what it would be like to have an older brother had been answered. It was all very weird and new.

But he was happy. And as far as Dustin knew, Steve was too.

Steve tried to act cool and coy, calling him an _‘annoying little shit’_ and scoffing at the stories of the antics he and his _‘little nerd friends’_ got in to. But Dustin noticed the soft grins Steve would give when he focused his eyes on the road, when he thought that just because he couldn’t see Dustin, it meant the younger wasn’t looking. But Dustin was always looking. Not to sound creepy or anything. In fact, he’d like to think that he’d gotten pretty good at Steve-Reading. 

Steve liked to roll up his sleeves to get comfortable, namely when he was driving, and it was in one of those many moments when Steve was carting Dustin to someplace or another that he noticed them again. He couldn’t believe he forgot.

The tiny marks on his hands. 

He wanted to ask about them - god did he want to ask about them - but he wasn’t sure what they _were_. Well, actually now that he’s viewing them in unpoor lighting, he can tell they’re definitely scars. But from what?

For a startling moment, Dustin’s mind flashes back to a haunting presentation his health teacher gave on mental health and illness about a year ago. He swallows, his throat suddenly dry. 

Maybe it was because he knew Steve wouldn’t give him a straight answer or maybe it was because he was afraid of getting the real answer, but Dustin didn’t ask him where the marks came from. Instead, he decided to do what he does best: research.

He took a mental picture of the tiny marks, ingraining the patterns, colors, lengths, and shapes into his mind for later reference. He then hastily shouted a command to turn back around to the library, causing Steve to nearly swerve off the road in fright at the sudden outburst. Another thing about Steve that Dustin often forgot about was that he was rather jumpy. He wonders if the teen was always this quick to startle or if this was a more recent development, post-monster hunting fiasco(s). Probably the latter. 

When they got to the library, luckily Steve wanted to wait in the car so Dustin didn’t have to worry about him catching wind about what he was doing. He quickly ran inside and searched for the books and texts he’d need. With a little help from the librarian (and a quick distraction technique when she realized he had some overdue books) he was able to find what looked to be the right stuff.

He checked them out and shoved them into his bag and exited the building. He picked up the pace after a dirty look from Steve, who was now out of the car, leaning against the vehicle with his arms folded across his chest in diluted annoyance.

* * *

In the comfort of his room, Dustin had sprawled the three books onto his bed and began his reading. 

The first book was rather useless. It really only told him how scars formed and why and while it was rather interesting, it wasn’t what Dustin was looking for.

The second book was much the same, but this one had a few pictures here and there that were a bit helpful.

Finally, the last book proved fruitful. 

He read about the different types of scars, the causes, and the treatments. Luckily, it provided pictured examples and helpful explanations the second book was lacking. He finally thinks he’s narrowed it down.

Dustin’s about 90 percent sure the scars are burn scars. For one, they seemed hypertrophic (a handy word he’d learned in his research) and seemed only to be first-degree burns, nothing from anything too intense. They were mostly odd shapes and all had faded to various light shades that if one wasn’t looking for them, they probably wouldn’t notice them in the first place. There were a few that caused Dustin worry, as they looked like they may not have been left by burns but knife slices. But there were only a few of them and none on his arms or wrists as far as Dustin could tell, which he learned in health class were the areas you needed to look out for….

That’s when Dustin started really thinking about what could be the causes of the scars, almost to the point of upsetting himself too much to keep researching. But he owed it to Steve to not quit, so he took a breath and then continued on his Curiosity Voyage. 

The knife cuts didn’t resemble what he’d seen in his individual research or in health class and the burn marks were too odd of shapes to be from cigarette or cigar burns (something he learned that people did to themselves or others that made him feel rather queasy).

That still left Dustin with the question of where they came from? And who caused them?

Were they accidental? Possibly, but Steve didn’t seem as if he were that clumsy of a guy and it seemed like a lot of accidents….So were they self-inflicted? Steve didn’t seem like the kinda guy who’d do something like that but hell, Dustin’s only known him kinda well for about a month and everyone always says the signs can be hard to notice, especially if the person doesn’t want anyone to….But Dustin refused to believe that Steve would be like that. Maybe it was selfish of him, but the Steve he knew, the image he had of him in his head, wouldn’t do something like that to himself. 

Then that left the question that Dustin didn’t want to think about but knew he had to….Did someone else give them to him?

The more Dustin thought about it, the more likely it seemed. Steve wasn’t that great at self-defense. Well, scratch that, he wasn’t that good at self-defense when it came to defending against humans. Steve’s totally kick-ass when it comes to fighting off demadogs and, from what he’s heard from Jonathan and Nancy about last year, pretty freaking great at taking down a full-grown demogorgon with a spiked baseball bat. Dustin likes to think it’s because Steve has some reservations about seriously hurting other people, human people with human feelings, though Dustin’s sure that Steve would punch him for ever claiming such a thing (or more likely just smack him upside the head or throw the nearest object that’d do the least amount of damage). 

So that left another question, who gave him those marks? The most likely answer was that it was one of his parents. Dustin’s never met the Harringtons as they’re never around much, which Dustin must admit seems very suspicious. Did they have a problem with their son? Did his dad or mom or both give him those scars for misbehaving? They were weirdly shaped scars and in a strange place and he had a hard time picturing what kind of punishment methods left those kinds of marks but Dustin realized with a bile-inducing thought that some people are _sick_ and _creative_ and he came to the horrifying realization that those scars on Steve’s hands could just be the ones that he could _see_....

Finally he came to the realization that if he wanted these answers, the only way to get them would be to ask Steve himself (if the guy way willing to answer which Dustin didn’t think he would be). 

He was nervous and didn’t know how to go about asking the question but all his plans to wait for a day when Steve was in a good mood or the scars came up naturally in conversation flew out the window when Steve picked him up to go to a DnD session at Mike’s and soon after he settled in his seat, Dustin saw a large bandage wrapping around most of Steve’s hand and up his wrist.

Dustin felt all the blood leave his face as he looked at Steve’s hand with a horrified expression. “W-What’s that?” he asked in a trembling voice that betrayed the calm facade he was trying to put on. Dustin didn’t even notice that he cut Steve off in the middle of speaking.

“Huh?” the teen simply voiced in confusion, turning his eyes away from his rearview mirror as he prepared to backup the car and pull away from Dustin’s house. “What’s what?” he asked.

“What’s what? What’s that!” Dustin practically shrieked as he grabbed Steve’s arm from the gear shift and held it firmly just above the bandage, pointing directly at the wrappings. 

“What?” Steve smartly replied again, sounding offended but not sure what for. Dustin shook him arm, careful to not to jostle it too much but enough so for emphasis. Steve seemed to finally take the hint after way too long, the idiot. “Oh. This? It’s nothing.” he informed, voice sounding nonchalant. 

“Don’t you dare give me that bullshit excuse, Steve. Nothing my ass!” he yelled back, a little too aggressive probably, but Dustin was feeling a lot of powerful emotions right now that he didn’t quite understand.

“Woah, woah, calm the hell down.” Steve ordered, looking actually confused by Dustin’s pure rage (and Dustin had to admit, it surprised himself a little too). “What’s your problem?” he asked as he yanked his arm away from the younger boy and returned it to the steering wheel.

“What’s my problem? What’s your problem?!” Dustin rebutted. “What happened to your arm?”

A slightly shameful and embarrassed expression crossed Steve’s face as he returned his eyes to the rearview mirror, which caused the gnawing pit of worry in Dustin’s stomach to grow. “I told you, it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.” he reiterated as he prepared to pull away once again. But Dustin wouldn’t let him escape.

“Oh, hell no. We’re not doing this.” Dustin firmly stated.

Before Steve could even ask the kid what he meant, Dustin had grabbed the gear shift and put the car into Forward, causing Steve’s eyes to widen in horror.

“JESUS CHRIST!” he shouted in alarm as he slammed on the breaks before he rear-ended Mrs. Henderson’s car. “What the _shit_ , Henderson? Are you trying to get me killed?!” he questioned in fury as he turned his head to the younger boy only to halt in pure shock as he saw Dustin looking at him with the saddest eyes he’s ever seen. Steve immediately began to hastily apologize, “S-Shit. Kid, I didn’t mean - Well you shouldn’t have - Well, I mean, I didn’t have to—”

Dustin’s expression was hardened but his trembling voice conveyed just how shaken he was when he cut Steve off again and asked, “A-Are _you_ trying to?”

Steve stopped in his apologies and looked at the kid in genuine bafflement. “Trying to what?”

“Don’t make me say it, bastard.” Dustin practically growled out.

“Well you’re gonna have to, shithead, ‘cause I have no freaking clue what you’re talking about.” Steve admonished in a matter-of-fact tone.

Dustin looked outside the windshield with such a pissed off expression that it would’ve been a little comical if Steve knew what the hell was going on. Finally, the kid spoke up in a quiet voice, “...Are you...trying to...hurt yourself?”

That floored Steve. “Huh?”

“Don’t ‘ _huh_ ’ me, asshole. You heard me.” he grounded out. “Are you trying to hurt yourself?” he repeated anyway.

“What?” Steve repeated again, knowing what Dustin meant but having no idea where the thought came from. He followed Dustin’s sad stare down to his bandaged wrist and hand and his eyes lit up in shock and alarm. “W-What? Oh, god, no! Shit. No, no I’m not.” he quickly assured. “Why the hell would you think that? Just because I’ve got a bandage on one time doesn’t mean that I—”

“But it’s not just one time!” Dustin interrupted once again. “You have knife scars and burn marks all over your hands, Steve! I noticed them for the first time after you got the shit beat out of you—”

“ _Hey—_ “

“—by Billy and then I kept noticing them and I did my research and found out what they were and I tried to find out where they came from and I realized someone must be hurting you or you’re doing it to yourself. And I don’t know what to do!” he ran his hands through his hair, feeling fidgety and too confined in the small space of the passenger seat. He hadn’t even realized he was rambling and Steve was barely keeping up. “I thought maybe I should talk to someone but I wouldn’t even know where to start. I thought maybe Mrs. Byers, or Hopper, or Mr.—”

“Woah, woah, calm down! No one’s calling anyone.” Steve quickly spoke, looking genuinely fearful of getting others involved.

“You need help, Steve! And I can’t give it to you and I—”

“Dustin, I did this to myself!” Steve finally shouted. Dustin felt sick but before he could even think of something to say, Steve continued speaking, realizing how that must’ve sounded. “B-But I didn’t mean to! Shit. I mean, it was an accident! I accidentally nicked myself with a knife when I was cutting something open.” he quickly finished, beating Dustin to it.

“Y-You’re shitting me.” Dustin stated, sounding incredulous.

“I’m not, I swear. It was literally an accident. I was cutting something and I got distracted and my hand slipped.”

“What were you cutting?” he further interrogated.

Steve turned back in his seat, facing the road once again but keeping his hands off the wheel, his injured hand cradled by the other, as if self-conscious. “Does it matter?”

“Damn right it matters! A second ago I thought you were being abused or hurting yourself!” Dustin exclaimed causing Steve to grimace at the reminder. “You must be a bigger idiot than I thought if you think I don’t want to know _exactly_ how you hurt yourself that badly.”

Steve’s face seemed to be in a permanent scowl as he still refused to meet Dustin’s eyes. “It was dumb, Dustin. It’s literally not a big—”

“Steve.” Dustin firmly stated, leaving no room for further excuses or arguments.

Steve heaved out a dramatic sigh and averted his eyes. He turned the car off to not waste any more gas. “I...It was a....a fish.” he finally admitted, with a reddened face and a voice so quiet that Dustin wasn’t sure if he heard him correctly. So he had to confirm.

“A _what?_ ”

“You heard me!” the teen yelled back in response, face still flush as he finally turned back to glare at the kid in his passenger seat. 

He finally caught his breath again but that didn’t mean everything was cleared up. “Why the hell were you cutting a fish?”

Steve rolled his eyes very dramatically. “Why do you think? I was filleting it, kid genius.”

“You were filleting a fish?”

“Yeah.”

“For dinner?”

“What else?”

“And your hand slipped?”

Steve slumped back in his seat and rested his hands on the steering wheel again, looking resigned to his fate. “The phone rang and it startled me, okay? And it was kinda tricky to maneuver around the bones in the first place and I’m not really good at it in general. Cooking’s not my forte.”

“You’re telling me that all these marks are from cooking?” 

“Yeah.”

“ _All_ of them?”

“ _Yeah._ ” he practically growled out, hands tightly gripping the steering wheel.

“But all the marks...they’re all so old.” Dustin stated in confusion. “And some are fresher than others.”

“I’ve been cooking for a while now but I’m shitty at it, alright? I’ve gotten better but every now and then I f-up. Last night was just a bigger f-up than most.” he admitted, observing said injury with a disdainful look.

“When?” Dustin asked after a short pause.

“Huh?” Steve voiced, looking back up from his wrist. “Last night, like I just said.”

“No, since when did you cook?”

“Oh. I dunno.” he answered, looking contemplative for a moment before revealing, “A few years now, maybe. Since I was around your age, I guess.” he informed with a shrug.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

Now it was Dustin’s turn to roll his eyes. “Why’d you start cooking?”

“So I can eat, Henderson.” Steve replied bluntly. “Are you dumb?” the teen asked critically, narrowing his eyes in scruitany. 

“What about your parents, dumbass? Doesn’t your mom or dad cook for you?”

“What?” Steve voiced, sounding surprised. “Oh, no. I mean, they do when they’re around and they leave me leftovers and money to order out but even I get sick of delivery and microwave dinners.” he reasoned.

Dustin wanted to kick himself. Of course his parents didn’t cook for him, they were always away! Dustin’s an idiot. Didn’t he already consider their large absence when he was trying to decide the cause of Steve’s scars? But shit, that was kinda sad. Steve’s been trying to learn how to cook for himself since he was Dustin’s age because his shitty parents were away all the time? That sucked. That more than sucked. Neglectful parents were better than abusive ones, Dustin figured, but it was still super shitty in that it was…depressing. And not in the funny way but the legitimately sad kind of way. 

And come to think of it, he remembers Mike complaining that Steve would eat over at the Wheeler’s all the time back when he and Nancy were dating. Was that because he didn’t want to eat alone? What was he doing now that Nancy was with Jonathan? Eating alone? Shit, that sucked. That really sucked.

He was quiet for a long time as he processed the information. During this time, Steve started the car back up and started driving to Mike’s again, like he was supposed to in the first place.

It was silent in the car as both parties mulled over different thoughts. Steve’s revolved around mostly how embarrassing the whole situation was and Dustin thought about how much he misjudged not only Steve but this entire situation. And he was still kinda bummed out over the way Steve seemed to be resigned to his lonely meal times….With this thought, Dustin finally decided what he’d say next.

“Was it any good? The fish?” he finally asked.

Steve glanced over at the younger boy briefly before looking back to the road. “It was decent, I guess.” he answered, trying to sound nonchalant but his tone undoubtedly revealed how surprised he was over Dustin’s question.

“What’re you making tonight?”

Steve clenched his jaw and sucked on his tongue in thought, seemingly contemplating if he should lie, deny, or just answer honestly. He decided on the latter. “Chili.” he eventually revealed with a sigh.

“Just for yourself?”

“Yeah, for me. Who else for? You?” he scoffed.

“Yeah. I wanna try some.”

Steve looked so surprised by Dustin’s answer that it would’ve almost been funny if it weren’t so sad. “Oh.” he simply voiced.

“Is that okay?”

“What? Oh, yeah, it’s fine.” Steve answered, sounding distracted, like his thoughts were somewhere else. Eventually, they finally arrived outside of Mike’s house and Steve put the car into park. He sat staring out the window for a moment before he spoke again, “It’s just….I guess it’s just that I’ve never cooked for anyone besides me before. I don’t know if I’m any good.” he confessed, much to Dustin’s surprise.

Dustin was once again surprised by Steve’s willingness to share this information with him. He was incredibly pleased, of course, but once again he was amazed at this hidden side to the (former) King of Hawkins High. Dustin smiled to himself before he spoke again, matter-of-factly stating, “Well, then, I’m honored to be your first willing victim. Besides, apparently someone has to watch over you so you don’t lose a hand or burn the house down. I’m surprised you’ve stayed alive this long.”

Steve promptly unlocked the car doors. “Get out of the car, Henderson.” he ordered flatly. As Dustin climbed out with another roll of his eyes, Steve leaned over the seat and called out the door, “And you better be done here no later than five cause I won’t wait around for you! Takes enough time to make as is.”

“Okay, _mom_.” Dustin sighed dramatically before shutting the door with a loud THUD.

Steve looked absolutely scandalized as his face turned beet red and he practically snarled, the “ _Screw you, Henderson._ ” just barely audible through the car door as Dustin laughed, quite pleased with himself and the turn of events. 

It was still pretty sucky. Dustin’s resigned himself to accepting that life is always gonna have really sucky, shitty parts to it that he can’t change. Like Max choosing Lucas over him (which isn’t the worst, but still really sucky). Like El’s childhood being robbed of her. Like Will’s messed up situation that he can’t seem to heal from. Like the thought of Steve making and eating his meals alone because his shitty parents are never around. 

But all these shitty things had good sides to them too, as cliche and dumb as it sounds. Max and Lucas can be happy together but he can still have them both by being their friend (and if they didn’t work out, maybe Dustin could eventually have his chance). El gets to finally be Jane, a girl with a father and friends who’d do anything for her and has more kick-ass in her pinky finger than anyone else could ever have in their whole body. And Will has the biggest and most loving support net he’s ever seen in the form of their Party, his mom, and brother. And as for Steve….

Well, Steve Harrington wouldn’t have to have all his meals alone anymore because Dustin would be sure to bug the living hell out of him from now on, whether he liked it or not.

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT 7/12/19: Woah, did somebody rec this or something? Where are all you new readers coming from???


End file.
